Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Dark Knight	By : xDAISUKIx Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 53703 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 15
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 3
djaddict: Thanks! I love creature!Harry fics too! Hmm… a hint huh?
No#1 was supposed to die during the battle of Hogwarts, he attends Hogwarts. The rest will be me presenting the readers with potential romantic interests and you guys choosing who you think should be Harry’s ‘mates’. I ‘might’ have preferences too though.

SinfulMind: :P Keep reading!

gummibear: Yeah, Fred isn’t dead. I get really depressed when I think about one twin without the other, it just isn’t right. I’ve already written a few chapters ahead so that if anything happens to me I’ll still update regularly for a few weeks.

unneeded: Hehe glad you liked it! Poor Ron, he got tricked. He’s just too gullible, I love playing around with his character.

bob762487: I love the part in the book when all the house-elves charge out of Hogwarts with their ‘weapons’.

moodysavage and XTakesheX: Ahahahaha..ha..a..a. Lol, I woke up early and was grouchy for the rest of the day, and yes, I am incredibly fond of the cliffhanger XD. Sorry for torturing you poor readers.

Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel

Written by: NeuroticNeko

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he’s still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don‘t know what that means then you shouldn’t be here.

"It's been five minutes and still, no one's answered the door yet!" Hermione said, glaring at the flaking door of Grimmauld Place. Impatient yet worried, she pounded the door with her bare fist.
"HARRY! ANSWER THE DOOR! HARRY!"
She glared at Ron. "Ron! Help me!"
Ron gamely started bashing the door and bellowing, "HARRY! MATE, OPEN THE DOOR!"
They continued in the same fashion until the door opened with a 'creak!' and the bedraggled figure of a house elf was revealed to them.
"Kreacher? Where's Harry?!"
Kreacher lead them to the living room, where he immediately took a vial from the boiler and hastened to the couch.
"Merlin's beard!" gasped Ron
"Oh- Harry!" cried Hermione.
Surrounded by blankets and towels, Harry was lying on the couch, hair damp and matted, clothes wet and stuck to his body. He cried out fitfully and Kreacher was immediately by his side, dabbing a wet cloth on his forehead and pouring a potion down his throat.
"What happened to him!?" Hermione demanded, "-and what's more, why haven't you tell us about Harry's condition!?"
Kreacher looked balefully at Hermione and resumed his soft dabbing.
"Master's friends mustn't tell anyone about Master's condition!"
"And why not?"
"Kreacher's Master is in a delicate state, too much magic around him will destroy the balance!"
Ron, who had been staring at Harry for a while now had begun to notice something strange going in the air surrounding Harry.
"'Mione?"
"What!? Can't you see I'm in the middle of-"
Hermione's eyes widened as she looked towards where Ron's shaking finger had been pointing to.
"Oh my..." She rubbed her eyes.
It wasn't immediately noticeable - the room was too dim for that. The air around the couch rippled and pulsed, expanding and contracting around the prone form in its grasp. An invisible wind rifled through the Harry's sweat-matted hair and lifted the edges of his blanket.
Magic; it surrounded Harry and rose from him in waves and swirling vortexes.
"We should at least move him into a bed" Hermione whispered, lifting her wand arm up. Kreacher glared at her, stopping her movement.
"It would not be wise to perform any sort of magic around Master. His magic is highly volatile and will react badly."
In agreement, Ron grabbed Harry by his underarms and Hermione grabbed his feet. Both almost dropped him when a spark leapt from Harry's skin and skittered over their skin.
"Be still!" Kreacher cried out.
"What was that?" Ron said, eyes wide.
"Master's magic was determining whether you wanted to harm Master. That is the only reason Kreacher let two troublemakers in." Kreacher said matter-of-factly.
When they arrived outside Harry's room, the door was open.
It was like a hurricane had decided to pay a visit, to put it simply. To put it in another way, it was the definition of a bachelor's pad. Hermione took a deep breath and decided it would be wise to not take another one for a while yet.
Ron whistled, "This is nearly as bad as Bill's place before he got hitched to Fleur," with his toe, he gently nudged some of the books on the floor.
"Well, it's still better than your's," Hermione said, business-like.
They levered Harry onto his bed.
"Kreacher, you know what's happening to him, don't you?" Hermione gazed at the elf intently.
"Kreacher may. But it is better not to tell the mud-blood and the blood traitor."
Ron spluttered. Hermione ignored it and started rummaging through her pouch again, occasionally she'd toss a book onto the ground and then she'd start rummaging again.
"What are you looking for?"
"Books on how to treat patients without magic"
Ron looked skeptical. "Muggles don't even have magic, how can they heal patients?"
Hermione flipped through a book about surgery and pointed to a particularly graphic image. Ron went pale as chalk, "That's barbaric," he said weakly, fighting the urge to faint dead away at the sight of blood.
"It works."
Hermione stopped and looked at a heap of books she had thrown on the floor.
Sorting through them all, she withdrew one and flipped it's pages.
No, no, no, no, no…no…AHA!
Hermione looked over at Harry and frowned. She began to walk over to his bed but then she blushed.
"Um… Ron? Can you remove Harry's shirt?"
Ron tugged his friends sweat-soaked t-shirt and pulled it over his shoulders. When he did, the first thing he saw was that the spots that he had seen the last time they saw him had multiplied and spread, crawling up Harry's shoulder. Whereas they previously could have been mistaken for freckles, they now seemed alive, animated. As they stared, the trembled and inched further up his shoulder.
"AH!"
Harry had moved and with an iron-like grip that sick people shouldn't be capable of, he had grabbed Ron by the hair.
"Um…mate, if you can hear me. Please let go. I'm gonna lose more hairs then I have already lost worrying about you."
All the unconscious Harry did in response was pull Ron closer to him and dig his nails into him. Then, the iron grip around him relaxed and fell away. Ron looked down at his wrist and at the crescent-moon indents in the shape of Harry's fingers. Any harder and Harry would have pierced his skin, as it was, they would definitely bruise.
"'Mione, look at his chest," Ron resumed, "The spots have… had babies."
Hermione frowned, "What are they?"
Kreacher looked up at her, "The beginning" and proceeded to ignore them.
After Harry had been re-dressed in clean, dry clothes, Hermione lifted the book from where she had left it face-down. The Muggle-born witch checked the blankets that covered Harry; sufficient. She tucked Harry's arms in and changed his pillow.
With a sigh she plopped herself down on the floor and rested her head on Ron's knees. "Poor Harry, it's never gonna end for him, is it?"
"M'fraid not, Harry just calls trouble to him"
"What Harry really, really needs is to just… have a normal life."
"We'll help him through it. After all that he has done for us."
After some biscuits and tea, Hermione and Ron left. Just as they were about to leave the front door, Kreacher dashed off. He came back with a very, very dirty book.
"What's that?" Ron asked in a distasteful tone
Kreacher gently patted the cover and blew lightly, the dust swelled off in a cloud. Without a word, he handed it to Hermione.
The door slammed closed.
"Git" He grumbled under his breath.
Hermione elbowed him.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Heard that," came a croak from the other side of the door.
After dinner, Hermione had climbed into bed and taken the old dusty tome from her pouch. It had no title, just a blank leather (very, very faded brown) cover. She tried to open the book gently but every movement caused a loud crack in the spine. Opening the first page it read:
In this book details the many inheritances that society denies.
To my granddaughter, for her 17th Birthday.
Lovingly, granddad.
Hermione bit her lip. Inheritances that society denies? She flipped to another page and found the index.
Introduction
The Inheritances common to Purebloods
The Inheritances rare to Purebloods
The Inheritances common to Half-bloods
The Inheritances rare to Half-bloods
The Inheritances of Squibs
Hermione understood Kreacher's intentions immediately. Then, she did what all good witches and wizards do when they read a book. She read the introduction.
In the many, many millennia that the Wizarding World has existed in, we owe our existence most to the creatures that hide in the shadows and lend us the power to shape the world.
In millennia past, wizards and witches would've been married off to many creatures, Naga, Sprites, Faeries, Elves, Vampires, Weres, Banshees and countless others that cannot be named in such short an introduction.
It has come to many of our attentions that in the modern day we hide anything that we consider 'anomalies' or so the Ministry lead us to believe.
What they must remember is that everything in this world needs a balance, a balance that they have denied for too long.
Remember, a creature is their own being, they have feelings, beliefs and their own values.
No matter what your inheritance, it is part of you.
No creature deserves to be treated with less respect.
Very, very interesting; Hermione could understand how society would think about the 'anomalies'. She was, after all, one herself. Turning back to the index she looked down at 'The Inheritances common to Half-bloods'.
Turning to the right page, she began to read.
After an hour, the brainy witch began to feel frustrated; none of the descriptions or 'symptoms' of the creature inheritances were matching with what Harry was going through. It was like he was going through a second puberty. Previous to this collapse, he had been growing taller, his voice was deepening, his magical signature was changing, he was even growing stronger musculature. She had even noticed the slightly brightening eyes and the dots. The dots, what were they? Why were they spreading?
What Hermione really wanted to know was how long her friend was going to remain comatose. Most of the creatures she had gone through were instant and painful, like a firework. A wizard would go to bed on their 16th or 17th birthday and feel and explosion of pain, wake up the next morning and have wings or other such things sprouting out of their backs but not Harry.
His was like a lava flow, approaching silently from behind and then burning him, consuming him slowly. There was another thing, Harry was eighteen now.
He was nearing the end of puberty; his growth should have been stabilizing. After all, most inheritances occurred when a wizard or witch came into their magical majority at seventeen.
Hermione cursed violently and fell back onto her pillow.
There must be something, something.
She shot up like a jack rabbit. Harry was special, he was always special. Anything to do with Harry couldn't be common. Forget common! Excitedly, she flipped to The Inheritances rare to Half-Bloods. These were generally the inheritances that required certain specific and rare circumstances to be achieved. Whether this was a certain percentage of creature blood, or an affinity with nature nearly impossible to achieve unless you were a full-blooded woodland elf, or finding an ancient relic.
In less than half an hour Hermione chanced upon her answer.
The Maister Scáth, better known as the Scáth, was one of the first to answer Merlin's call.
They originated in Ireland and in their language they were aptly named 'Masters of the Shadows'.
When wizard kind first appeared, they who kept the Loch Ness monsters at bay, joined the wizards, in hopes of strengthening their numbers and because they thought it their duty.
In actuality, their dying out was because they bred with wizard-kind too much and their bloodlines weakened.
However, they are not extinct.
Due to many bloodlines having been influenced by the Scáth, an individual who has come to terms with their inner-self and has been influenced and exposed to vast amounts of magic will be more likely to awaken their Scáth genes.
This, however, does not mean that everyone will inherit. Inheritance also depends on how thick your blood is, this is why half-bloods rarely inherit this gene and it is unheard of in a squib.
Your inheritance will also depend on how close you are to certain families.
The most Scáth a single family has produced at a time is three.
In Magical Britain, the most likely to awaken are those related to the Blacks, Princes and the Peverells, the founders of their families were Scáth.
A half-blood will also have a much harder time coming into majority and will come into it at the very end of puberty. Their growth starts months before the typical 'Inheritance Fever,' this is caused by the low concentration of Scáth blood, which must now gather itself and slowly change the body.
A half-bloods Fever will fall between one to two weeks. During this period, their marrow will be producing Scáth blood, the introduction of this new blood causes the fever, as the white blood cells reject the foreign material.
After the change, Scáth are typified by the runes that cover their bodies; of course these runes are very different for each person and effect their lives in a very personal way.
You cannot choose your runes; they will be decided by the deeds you have performed in this life, and in very, very, special cases, their past lives.
The beginning of runes are often disjointed lines or can almost be mistaken as a severe rash or even severe freckles. These disjointed lines, during the Fever, shift on the individuals skin until they can achieve their most harmonious shape.
The book revealed no more.
Hermione came back the next morning (without Ron, he would've gotten in the way and as much as Hermione loved Ron, she couldn't deny that sometimes he was a pain in the neck) and confronted Kreacher in the kitchen.
"What do I need to know? What can I do?"
Kreacher looked smug and asked her with a superior smile.
"That is why Kreacher cannot tell, but, if you insist Kreacher shall tell this mud-blood."
Kreacher led Hermione to the couch.
"When did Hermyownee begin to notice the changes?"
She scowled, although this was Kreacher's first attempt at civility, being called a mud blood was almost better than this bastardization of her name. It almost sounded mocking. She doubted that was Kreacher's intention though, so she let it go.
After fidgeting for a moment, she sat still and thought about his question.
Was it the way he walked? His personality? What had changed? And when had she begun to notice these minute changes that she only thought about now?
"I think…it would be…a few weeks after the war"
Kreacher nodded slowly and said:
"Shortly after the war, the major magic's that were at play during the battle at Hogwarts and the large amounts of magic he had been in contact with during his attendance of Hogwarts caused his Scáth to awaken.
The fact is a half-blood very rarely inherits this gene as most half- bloods aren't exposed to as many strong magic's as pure-bloods are. Typically, pure bloods are purposely awoken by their families through the use of very powerful artifacts. As Kreacher and Miss both know though, Master is not ordinary.
Master has performed many great feats in his short existence and his genes, and most importantly, his magic, recognizes this. The magic of the Scáth's seek to pass on their bloodline to only the strongest of wizardkind, not to mention that Master is descended directly from one of the Peverell brothers."
Hermione was silent.
"But… there were so many students in Hogwarts during that time. Wouldn't that mean that many people might have activated their Scáth genes?"
Kreacher took one ear in hand and started scratching it.
"Kreacher thinks that there may be a few, but Kreacher also knows that there are other creature inheritances out there that may be activated because of the flare-up of powerful and dangerous magic's that came about during Voldemort's return."
The witch bit her lip.
Going back to Hogwarts for an eighth year… everyone would've changed in their own way, she realized.
Leaving Kreacher to clean and scrub the sink in the kitchen, Hermione put her hand on the oaken handrail and began to ascend the steps.
Striding over to Harry's bedside, she pushed his matted hair away from his face. The recumbent patient groaned and Hermione turned her back to take a towel and some cold water from the bedside table. Unwary, she was caught by a firm grip.
Remembering the darkening bruises on Ron's wrist, she tried to wrench back her arm. Pin-pricks of bright, sharp pain sizzled her nerves.
Was Harry marking them?
The grip on her arm relaxed and she turned around. Harry was peacefully lying comatose on the fluffy white and blue checked blankets.
"What was that for?" She mumbled to the unconscious Harry. "-it bloody hurt, damnit."
Hermione came the next day and asked for the address of a good library or bookstore. The bushy haired witch looked intently at the unmoving figure.
His pallor was beginning to return and his scruffy black hair was darkening.
On the fifth day since Harry had begun his fever, Hermione came with Ron and visited Harry. Ron commented that Harry looked like he could wake up any day now. Harry had grown two more centimetres.
While cleaning Harry, Hermione took Harry's shirt off. She looked curiously at Harry's chest and arms. The spots were beginning to look like disjointed lines.
It was the sixth day and it was raining again. The duo went upstairs and changed Harry's sheets and clothes.
"Gee, he looks even better than he did when he was before this happened."
Hermione looked at Harry.
"He does, doesn't he?"
She sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at her friend. The-Boy-Who-Lived was looking remarkably well, better than sick person should look. His hair was wild and had become darker and shinier looking, his limbs were elongating, his lips were no longer a pale white and Harry's skin colour had slightly darkened to a golden tint
Ron watched in silence as Hermione went on with her customary check up.
"Another 2 and a half centimetres," she murmured.
She looked at Ron.
"That's at least six and a half centimetres in five days; this fast paced growth could be dangerous!"
"How?" Ron asked, confused.
"You still haven't read Hogwarts: A History? A boy in his sixth year tried to take a growth acceleration potion but his bones were not fully stabilized and his body couldn't handle the sudden growth. He collapsed and when he was found, the damage was already done. His bones were permanently bent out of shape"
"He was fixed, though?"
"Oh yeah, but had a pronounced hunch-back that stayed with him"
Ron paled.
At four pm, they left through the flaky front door and bid Kreacher a farewell.
Kreacher stared after them.
"Must get ready."
The magic that had exploded that first day had been entrenched in Harry's body. Day after day it had grown brighter and brighter.
Today, though, the magic had been more subdued.
And suddenly there is nothing. No fire. No feeling just an empty darkness- a never ending abyss.
The darkness wraps itself around him, as if never wanting to let go of its prize.
His eyes open.

Please Review! Feedback helps plotline and feeds my brain.
All author’s appreciate reviews! They keep the chapters coming!
Cya,

NeuroticNeko! >.<

NEXT CHAPTER: LIFE AS A CREATURE BEGINS WITH A BOOM!
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Dark Knight